That Blonde Boy
by logicalnonsense19
Summary: 14 years old and seeing things: Clary starts to sketch the things she sees but never finishes them. How does she live half a life in both worlds but never a whole life in one?
1. Chapter 1

**_BEFORE: the first time that Clary meets Jace – ish. Set when they are both fourteen years old so Magnus Bane's spell still deletes her memories of what she sees as soon as she has seen it._**

The fourteen year old boy tackled a malformed creature to the ground. He gasped with the effort and whispered "_Ithariel_". It sounded like a curse until his sword became a shaft of light. The boy swung the sword at a malnourished limb and lodged the sword in the back of the creature's leg. It howled in agony but didn't relent in its struggles.

To the red-head onlooker, the scene was incredible. She stood, stunned, not knowing what to do.

He was masked and wore dark, skin-tight clothing - like training clothes on a cold day. The only way to distinguish him was his bright blonde hair, standing out against the black leather of his gear. He let out a groan of pain as a black, sticky liquid spilled out of the creature, over his bare hand, and began to fizz.

Apart from his face, his hands were the only skin you could see. It wasn't as pale as you would expect it to be in comparison to his gear. He was tanned, even for summer. You could tell just my his build that he was the boy that would make girls swoon at school, that the other guys resented or loved.

The red-head took a step towards him, to help him up, but she was stopped when the creature started to squirm again and he cried out in anguish. She flinched, unnoticed.

"Clary!" Her mom calls from the street at the end of the alleyway. "What are you staring at? You've got art class, come on!"

The red-head slowly turned away and shook her head. When she looked back, there was nothing there, only the emptiness of something she should have remembered.

_**Hi! So this is my second short fanfic - I hope you enjoyed it and please review! :D**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey! I didn't think I was going to post another chapter but… here I am! Enjoy, I hope.**_

_Clary's POV_

I couldn't concentrate all through my art class. We were doing painted studies, which I hated because I could never make them as good as my mom's. I preferred to sketch – to cover pages in lines that formed themselves into pictures. That is what amazed me.

I idly sketched a scene that I felt I should remember, but it was so surreal, it must have been from a film. I just couldn't place it. The only problem was: I watched _loads_ of these films with Simon. Fantasies, sci-fi, adventure, and action films were our type.

"You can see the colours of these abstracts do not reflect the scene itself, but the painters emotions…" the lady who was taking the class droned on while the rest of us painted the still life sets in front of us.

We only had red, yellow, and blue in our pallets so colours were completely up to us. I stared at the set, my mind wondering again.

I took the blue and only added specs of red and yellow to tone down the brightness of the blue hue. It resulted in a dark, spiralling grey – like a stormy mist rolling over a clear lake. The colour radiated my confusion and frustration perfectly so I painted in the shades of the African vase in front of me. Red and blue then created a stunning lilac to contrast it by running zig-zags through the pattern.

Next, yellow with a tint of red made gold to underscore the lilac slashes. The art room door was slammed shut which made me jump and knock the water pot over. I ran to mop it up before it ruined my work. Only then did I notice that the gold had dripped onto my idle sketch, just over the one exposed pupil.

I put the sketch into my bag so that I don't destroy it any more than I already have and settle back down to painting.

I carefully mixed a sandy, striking blonde colour and started to apply it to my page in front of me. With my paintbrush hovering above the page, I stopped suddenly. I reached under the desk to my bag and found the sketch I had started earlier.

Finally, I could start trying to reach the full picture with tiny blocks of texture and colour. I moved the paintbrush swiftly over the exposed hair in my sketch and another piece falls into place.

_**Hey! Thanks for reading and, once again, please review! :D**_

_**19 xxx**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey guys! Just so you know, I am juggling stories so I won't be able to update everyday for both. Once again, I hope you enjoy the next chapter as much as I did writing it! :D**_

Sitting in the last carriage of the L train, a petite redhead stared out of the window with utter bewilderment splashed across her face. The fourteen year old looked like a small child after seeing a phone for the first time. The onlookers were confused by her. No one her age could be that stunned anymore, especially on the tube. To the common eye, she was in wonderment over the monotonous concrete shell the L train was shooting through. To the redhead, the tunnel was lit up by devilish fair folk, taunting her through the glass.

She reached out, as if to touch them, but was stopped abruptly by the worn glass separating the mortal from immortal. Never glancing around at the people that were staring at her, she reached out again, with more force that time. The girl jerked back in confusion and hurt painted on her face, but never letting her gaze leave the malicious, deceiving faces on the other side of the barrier.

The short, early-teen clutched a bound sketchbook to her chest. She reached, unblinking, into her blue jacket pocket and brought out a fine-line pen. She flicked through past sketches of flowers, landscapes, and line-drawings of animals, until she found a clean page. Her eyes were still distracted by the false beauty of the creatures in front of her.

The redhead was a remarkable drawer, any onlooker would agree. But they would all deny that they saw the same character in her sketch in the tunnel outside the L train. The pointed chin and sharp shoulders were like nothing that had been seen before. As the clothes started to be drawn out, the watchers wondered what type of fashion it was and how someone would be wearing it on the other side of the window.

As the mysterious girl started to add features and shading to the supernatural figure, her gaze flickered down to the open page. When she glanced back at her subject, the smile on her face fell immediately into confusion. She scanned up and down the shell outside the L train. Pressing her eyelids firmly closed and opening them again, she checked her page to make sure she hadn't been dreaming. All that met her was the falsified feeling of a miraculous daydream.

The L train pulled into her stop. The girl was jerked back into reality. Before leaving though, the girl re-checked up and down either side of the tunnel but seemingly saw nothing. She shook her head and backed away from the window slowly. Turning quickly, the redhead sprinted off the train, silently cursing her overactive imagination.

_**Hi! So, thanks for reading and (you know what I'm going to say) please review! It means so much to me if people review and it helps me get some pointers for the next chapter!**_

_**19 xxx**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**HEY! I'm back! A special thanks to "ashtonschocolatemilk" who reviewed! Thank you so much, it made my day :D So... next chapter... enjoy!**_

Simon had fallen asleep on my bed.

It wasn't such a rare occurrence. Simon always exhausted himself running to my house from school every Tuesday and Thursday (we ran to his house on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays because it wasn't as far). He wasn't exactly (at all) a sporty type of person and his endurance wasn't anything special either. Even with much shorter legs, I could run faster and further than him.

Simon wasn't likely to wake up in the next five minutes, so I grabbed my sketchbook and a fine-line pen. I shuffled Simon's unresponsive body onto one half of my bed and sat head-to-toe on the other side. Resting a pillow behind my head, I kicked out my feet and settled into a comfy position.

I steadily looked through my sketchbook. All of my recent sketches were in this one so I wasn't surprised to see that my first one was the landscape of a glass city with towers glowing blue on the borders. I had found a description of it in a book in Luke's shop and when I asked him to compare the drawing with the description, he said it was exactly how he had pictured it – which was a bit odd, but oh well.

The next one was a tarot card, the cup of hearts. It had always been my card – ever since I started to have my cards read for me. The card felt like a fitting thing to sketch and when I did, it felt like I had created something real. Nothing had ever felt like that before. The bronzing colours of the metal that it was made of was particularly good in this sketch. I was never good at adding colours, I usually just blocked in black.

On the next page, I had sketched a blonde haired boy tackling a sci-fi type creature. The boy had sandy coloured hair and golden eyes – I was sure. He was wearing leather gear that I thought could be black but I wasn't clear so I hadn't painted on that colour yet. The creature looked like it was from a Men In Black film or another film that I had watched with Simon recently. I had meant to ask him tonight, but he had fallen asleep as soon as we had gotten up to my room.

The last sketch I had done was of something like a faerie but with a demonic aura. It was not the first thing someone would think of if you said "faerie" to them. One thing niggled at the back of my mind though. The character didn't have a face. I remember drawing it on the L train back from my art class, a week after I sketched the blonde boy. I must have reached my stop before I could finish it and found the time? That must have been it. I grabbed a pencil from my desk because I didn't know what I wanted the face to look like yet.

Starting to sketch, I could tell that the features were too soft and pretty for the harsh demeanour of the faerie. I sharpened the nose and made the eyes more piercing but that didn't look right either.

I was stuck staring at the page in confusion when Simon stirred next to me. I erased what I had tried since I knew that it didn't work with the character and set aside my pencils and sketchbook to try again later.

I crawled to lean over Simon and prod him awake like I always do, when he shot up right. His face slammed into my chest – which I though was equally unpleasant for both of us. I lost my balance as he lay back down and I fell on top of him. Simon knew just what to do though. He grabbed my sides, flipped me over and started tickling me.

In the end, we were both laughing so hard that my mom came in. She took in the scene: me lying on the bed, Simon tickling me (which could have been mistaken for a whole world of things), me with my legs round his waist, Simon's bed head.

"I brought cooki– Clary, what have you been doing with Simon?" my mom asked suggestively.

Simon and I look at each and blush tomato red.

But we never actually stopped the tickling match.

_**Thanks for reading! Please review because it actually makes my day when someone does! :D**_

_**19 xxx**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hey… First of all I am so sorry for not updating in ages. :( I don't know how much I'll be able to write today but I'll try and write more than usual… hopefully. Well, on with the story:**_

People around the petit redhead shone with worry as they skirted away from her. She was beginning to scare everyone with her show of miming…? She acted like there was something there that they couldn't see, as if something was hidden but not to her.

She was kneeling in the centre of the pavement, dirtying her blue skinny jeans. The redhead stared in a mixture of fear and wonderment at something only a few feet in front of her. From how she was acting around it, that "something" apparently moved but wasn't large in size – maybe the size of a dog.

If you saw her eyes, they would haunt you forever. That solitary blend of panic and confusion is not what the common person would see everyday, if at all. The green seemed tinted from their usually bright, spring hue with dawning horror and cloudy darkness. Her eyes were wide open in shock (and had been for some time) as if she was constantly reassuring herself that the "something" wasn't there, but it always was.

She placed her hands on her knees as she leaned closer to the "something" almost tentatively. The redhead stared intently at it and followed it as it moved to the left, circling her. It was like a half-casted battle dance, letting them get a full view of their opponent.

The redhead stared for longer than many mortals can, but that was to be expected, what with her lineage. She saw the wolf in front of her that no one else could. She had been seeing things that only she could imagine for weeks now. Her sketchbook was proof of it – although she could never place the images. The redhead didn't know what she was seeing, which meant that she was safe – for the time being.

The only things she was interested in from the wolf though were its eyes. They were deep and knowledgeable. They showed who they were – the eyes were the only weakness from adaptation that the wolf had. Wolves could never hide who they were because they kept their eyes throughout the turn. The redhead could see from the strength in its eyes that it was old. More experienced viewers would be able to tell purely from the wolf having turned in the middle of a summer day – but the redhead didn't understand.

She sat back on her ankles and tensed as the wolf nuzzled her arm almost fondly. Of course. She had seen her "honorary father" in its eyes. The redhead had guessed, the wolf knew, but she could never be sure unless someone told her.

She had been staring at the wolf for a long while now. As she blinked and continued to be as shocked as before, I realised that my spell was wearing off.

I needed to tell Jocelyn.

_**Hey! So now you guys know that the third person chapters aren't third person (plot twist I think :D). So I hope you guys enjoy this and I might be able to start the next chapter tonight but don't expect anything today. Maybe tomorrow…**_

_**So please review because it makes my day (I don't squeal and do a happy dance… alright I do, but don't tell anyone) :D Thanks of course to the reviewers!**_

_**Guest: I find it really hard to write more than I do at the moment but I'll try :) I can't believe that no one has done something like this before but I like to be original.**_

_**NeonAngel: Thanks, but I don't really know exactly where this is going so stay tuned! **_

_**19 xxx**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hey again! So a MASSIVE thank you to NeonAngel! If you have an account though please log in because I'd like to see any stories that you have written. :) Two happy dances in one evening – oh yeah. :D In reply to your questions: I don't know how many more encounters yet but I intend to have them as alternate chapters so that they follow the story and also increase her awareness of the Shadow World. Also, you will find out who's POV it is – there are clues in Chapter 5 but oh well. :) So, on with the story!**_

_Clary's POV_

Mom pushed her head through the door. The sun shone through the gaps in between my curtains and the light seared my eyes like fire. It was too early in the morning for moving, too early for light as well. I was never a morning person, and at fourteen I _needed_ sleep – or that's what I remember. It only got worse.

"Go away," I whined. "I'm still asleep."

My mom chuckled to herself and walked in. She scanned my room and all the clothes on the floor and everything that was scattered over my desk. A frown moulded onto her lips as she looked around in disdain. Mom shuffled around the end of my bed and peeked underneath the bed. She almost moaned at the sight of the mound of objects – things that I haven't touched for ages, nothing that could decompose luckily though.

"I'll just have to tidy up while you're sleeping then–" she said as she started to move things to other places. It was what she called "tidying" but sometimes I didn't know what she meant. "–and I'll just have to take a peek –" Mom wondered round to my desk and shuffled through the mound of paper scattered over it. "–at all of your personal–" She flicked through my sketchbook her face distorting with each page.

After the wolf episode, I had come home to find my sketchbook where I left it and my pencils on top of it, taunting me. I had nothing else to do, so I drew the wolf I had seen with exactly the same eyes. I had only finished the colours for the fur and eyes the night before. The textures I had created surprised me. They had just flowed from my memory to the page and didn't stop. I stayed up until one am just to finish it, in case I forgot something major. The eyes had taken the longest though. The spirals and swirls of different, alternating colours were the most difficult part of the whole sketch. I thought I had recognised them from somewhere and when I had finished the last light glare I realised: they were Luke's eyes. I had happily laughed that off but if you put it together with all of the other sketches in my sketchbook, I looked like a mental case.

It seemed like I had imagined a whole other world, a parallel universe, with magic or fae or wolves and whatnot. It seemed like that: but it was so much worse. I knew it was real, I hadn't imagined it. And if we lived in a world like this, why hadn't this been talked about before. They weren't common knowledge, I understood that at least, but then why did people look at my like I'm crazy every time I react to something like that. Something wasn't right.

My mom's gaze landed on the wolf sketch. She gasped and raised her hand to her mouth in shock. Mom stared more intently at the sketch that I had applied paint to and ran her fingers gently over the eyes. She had recognised them too. She glanced at me in horror and confusion.

"Wh-why? H-H-How? What h-h-happened here? Clary?" Mom almost shouted in alarm.

"I don't know! I saw a wolf in the street and I drew it. It had… Luke's eyes. I didn't fully recognise them until I had finished the colour, but it is his eyes isn't it?" I said, burrowing into my duvet in shame.

"No! N-no they're not Luke's eyes," Mom said, laughing nervously and refused to meet my eyes. "Of course they aren't don't be silly. You probably just have an overactive imagination. Of course, yes! That's it: overactive imagination…" she mumbled.

"No. They are! Look closer, you can see it!" I say, trying to convince her and myself that I'm not crazy.

"Oh! Look at the time! It's almost 9am I should probably be out at the bookshop. I-I-I need to talk to Luke about… something! Yes, I need to talk to Luke about something," Mom replied, looking seriously nervous and her eyes were wide. She ran out the door and a minute later I heard the front door unlock and then shut again.

I was in a mad house and my mom had just ran away from me. What had I done?

_**Hey! So, ashtonschocolatemilk asked for this a while ago and I thought it was probably the only way this fanfic could go – so here it is! I really hope you enjoyed this and sorry for not updating yesterday – I had this written but not edited so I hope this can make up for it. Please review! Happy dances are awesome and by reviewing you can give more opportunities to happy dance without being judged! Always a good thing. :D**_

_**Also, I just wanted to ask: is everyone looking forward to The Dark Artifices? 2015 come quicker! :D Anyways, byeee!**_

_**19 xxx**_


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